


Memories

by Annien



Series: The Arcane Warrior and The Nightingale [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anger, Angst, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8497447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annien/pseuds/Annien
Summary: Set during the events of Inquisition, struggling with a crisis of fate and with the loss of her friend and mentor, Leliana tries to deal with her feelings. Thinking of all the losses she has suffered throughout her life, from her mother, to Lady Cecilie, to Marjolaine, being away from her lover - the HoF, and now the death of the Divine, Leliana has a breakdown that makes her re-live some of the best moments of her life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dear reader,
> 
> This whole thing started unexpectedly and it was supposed to be Leliana looking back on her life. So nothing major, just another story for the general audience, no need for an M rating, right? Wrong! Apparently somehow in the middle of it my brain thought that it would be best to summarize the bard's time with Marjolaine writing mature content...  
> So, I guess that just happened. But it is nothing explicit... at least I do not think so. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think of this one-shot in the comments below. It would help a lot! Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Annien

Haven was silent in the middle of the night. The outside winter air was cold and her cloak did nothing to protect her against it. That was what determined Leliana to seek refuge through the archway with the Inquisition banner on top. The chantry was quiet, no one to walk its halls as Leliana trod through the poorly lit interior. The tens of candles and the two braziers in the middle of the pathway towards the wartable room were still burning, and the redhead realised that she was grateful not to be left in a complete darkness.

For a while she pondered what to do. There was no urgent work for her to take care of, as she already sent agents to Val Royeaux to assess the situation and prepare everything for the meeting between the Herald and Cassandra with the names Mother Giselle provided them with.

She did not want to go to sleep either, not when she knew that the simple thought of lying in the bed would make her miss Solona. Not hearing anything from her lover for the past four months was concerning. She could not find any news about her whereabouts or her fate, even with her impressive network of spies. One would think that people would know where the Hero and Warden-Commander of Ferelden would be, but it appeared that she disappeared without a trace. And Leliana knew how to track any kind of steps one would leave on this earth. It was almost like Solona traded the physical world for the Fade, which – terrifying enough – would be something the arcane warrior would be able of doing.

When it came to her lover’s current situation there were too many unknowns that scared her, thus sleep was not an option. For a moment she hoped that Josephine might still be awake, so the redhead opened the door to the ambassador’s office with hopes of seeing the Antivan at her desk composing another letter to their allies, but the room was empty. The only thing besides the lifeless furniture and the light from the brazier was her friend’s honeysuckle scent.

Not willing to give up the familiarity of that, Leliana entered the office and headed for the desk, allowing her fingers to lazily pass over letters and reports. She then turned her attention towards the small collection of books the Antivan put together. She recalled some familiar titles Marjolaine made her read on Orlesian nobility, Orlesian traditions and some philosophy books that she picked up herself. Threading her fingers on the spine of a particular book made the spymaster have a flashback to a certain memory.

She remembered being in a different chantry in Amaranthine, the place where Andraste first revealed the Chant of Light. She remembered kneeling in front of a statue of Andraste, feeling as lost as she did now. She did not know what she was supposed to do there in one of the most holy places in the world when she was an assassin. She felt like a fraud and wanted to leave, but it was the same woman that saved her who made her turn back. Closing her eyes, Leliana allowed herself to be carried away by her memories.

 

* * *

  

 

“I do not belong here, mother Dorothea,” said a broken girl with hair like flames and dressed in chantry robes.

“Some might say the same thing about me, Leliana. I was not given to the Chantry from a young age, I was quite a well-versed player of the Grand Game, and I have had dealings with bards before. Obviously I lost my touch if Marjolaine managed to seduce and manipulate me, but the point still stands… I have a past, but nothing that the Maker cannot forgive.”

“How do you know that?” the young bard asked.

“Because I have faith and I pray.”

“I do not know how to do either of those,” Leliana said, her voice carrying a trace of shame.

“The only thing you need is will, and I already saw how strong yours is.”

“That is it? Wish for it and it will happen?”

“Yes, Leliana, because you see _… ‘The desire is thy prayers; and if the desire is without ceasing, thy prayer will also be without ceasing. The continuance of your longing is the continuance of your prayer.’_ “

“I–,” Leliana was speechless. She absorbed Dorothea’s words and let them float through her spirit. “Those are pretty inspiring words…”

“I was not the one to speak them, but they are some of my favourites. They are from this book I like that I think you should read…”

 

* * *

 

 

In the moment Leliana’s hand left the book, the memory ended, leaving the bard to long for her friend. It was funny how a memory that one second brought warm to your heart, in the next could tear the same heart apart. Instead of the soothing voice of Dorothea, Leliana felt an unbearable loss. And no matter how much pain conjuring those memories would bring, the bard could not make herself let them go.

So she left Josephine’s collection of books behind and stormed out of the office, only to throw open the door to what now served as a wartable room, passed by the map in the centre of it and entered a bedroom that lay behind a closed door.

She was the one who closed the door soon after the explosion at the Conclave, and now she was the first one to enter the chamber, five weeks later. As soon as she took the first step past the door, her knees gave up and she collapsed on the floor, tears clouding her vision already.

It was the first time since the Breach appeared that Leliana allowed herself to feel anything, and now that she did a flood came through the newly opened gate and drowned her heart. What once served as Justinia’s room was now cold, but not colder than the hole in her heart, caused by losing her dearest friend.

After she devoided herself of all the tears, Leliana rose on shaky legs and looked around the room. Everything was exactly like Justinia left it, and the bard could not bring herself to touch anything, afraid that she might taint her memories of Justinia if she did.

Instead, she stared at the scattered papers lying on the desk. Taking a closer look she realised that those were plans she and the Divine came up with as preparation for what was supposed to be the new reform to change the Chantry when the Conclave would have been successful. Those were Justinia’s plans not only to end the conflict between the mages and the Templars, but to shape a new world. A new world where the Chantry would stop being the hand that oppressed the mages or the elves, and be the hand that opened the door for everyone to feel the love of the Maker, because everyone is His child, not only the few the previous Chantry deemed worthy. So, Leliana was staring at Justinia’s dream, at her work of a lifetime, and realised that she was part of the reasons why now the Most Holy was not alive to see her plans come to life.

And like that all the loss she was feeling gave room to guilt. Guilt for not discovering the assassination attempt; guilt for not trashing that dwarf or the Captain of the Guard and get out of Kirkwall sooner; guilt for failing at her job of protecting Justinia, but most of all, guilt for abandoning her and letting her die alone. Did she really die alone or did she have the Maker by her side?

Hmm, the Maker… the Maker who allowed His most faithful to die a senseless death.

Just thinking about the fate the Maker had for Justinia filled Leliana with a vicious anger. Having all those emotions inside her, loss, guilt, weakness, grief, abandonment, shame, regret and a lot of anger drove the bard into the pits of despair. Being overwhelmed like that made her lose the last shred of self-control and in a fit she swept clean the contents of the desk, scattering the papers all over the floor and smashing the statue of Andraste that was actually a gift from Solona.

Seeing the shattered pieces on the floor brought memories of all the other things she lost. Flashes of her earliest memory passed in front of her eyes and the bard found herself being an outsider in the last memory she had of her mother.

 

* * *

 

She saw herself as a small child, a little more than four, holding her mother’s hand back to Lady Cecilie’s villa. She could see the teal colour of the Waking Sea in front of her, waves crashing into white stone cliffs. Behind her was the garden in which she loved to run and hide, enjoying getting lost into the lavender fields. Now the scent that filled her nostrils was not the lavender one, but the gentle fragrance of Andraste’s grace as she buried her head into Oisine’s grey linen dress.

Then the grey faded to a bright white, the white of the bedsheets covering what used to be her mother’s bed. Behind her stood Lady Cecilie, a soothing hand spread across Leliana’s back as the Orlesian woman told her that she just became an orphan.

Looking up at the kind woman that took her in, the redhead focused on those kind facial features as the decorum changed once again. She felt the same hand on her back, but now the slightly older woman encouraged her to look into the mirror and see herself dressed in her first gown, ready to accompany the ageing Cecilie to a soiree. She heard a faint voice telling her how beautiful she looked and how proud the older woman was to be her guardian.

Watching their reflection in the mirror, Leliana saw the both of them attending a soiree in Val Royeaux. The redhead remembered that to be her first experience with the Orlesian society and the capital of the Empire.

It was also the first time when she was completely dazzled as her eyes were set on a woman who commanded the whole ballroom floor from the moment she walked in. But it was not her beauty that made everyone, men and women alike, be drawn to her – even thought she was beautiful – but the power that Marjolaine was inspiring, the grace with which she carried herself and her charm that enchanted the sixteen-year-old redhead.

She found herself under the same spell two years after, at the ball Marjolaine threw her for becoming of age, when the older woman asked her to dance. In the moment she took that soft hand into hers and stepped onto the ballroom floor, everything but the object of her fascination faded away.

Leliana felt her feet sway gracefully under the rhythm set by Marjolaine, her hands tickling where she touched the bard-master and a pool of desire forming in her belly from the disarming look she received from on the older woman. They continued to dance on the song, having eyes only for one another until the last note when Marjolaine’s hold on her tightened and she was swept off her feet when the woman dipped her low to the ground.

In that moment her body threatened to melt in the strong hands keeping her above the ground, thing that happened later that night in the intimacy of Marjolaine’s bedroom when the same strong hands pushed her against the wall, a lithe body pinning her in place. The same look in Marjolaine’s eyes intensified as the woman dipped in and captured the redhead’s lips into a passionate kiss for the first time.

The next thing Leliana knew was that she reversed their places, feeling the bard-master’s body trapped between the wall and her own. The young woman did not have the time to be surprised as she felt a hand reaching behind her neck and pulling her in for another mind-numbing kiss. Lips started tugging, teeth started nibbling and tongues intertwined with each other, making both women groan in pleasure.

Lost in their passionate exchange, Leliana did not realise that Marjolaine’s hands drifted to the base of her back and to her thighs until she was swept off her feet once more and carried to the bed. She landed on the soft bed, Marjolaine on top of her, applying sweet pressure with her own body. In the second the redhead felt soft lips kissing her neck, she closed her eyes and got lost in the pleasure it brought.

When the soft kiss turned into a possessive bite that left behind a mark showing her who she belonged to, Leliana opened her eyes and found herself naked underneath her lover on the beach outside her villa, the waves of the Waking Sea crashing at their feet. Hands started roaming on her body, cupping her breasts, hardening her nipples, taunting the muscles between her hips…

…until Leliana found herself pinned against the kitchen counter, begging Marjolaine to move her hand lower and thread those skilled fingers through her folds.

Her pleas then became intonations of her lover’s name when her hands clutched the sides of the bathtub as Marjolaine’s fingers pushed deep inside her and curled upward at the end of each thrust. As she was getting closer and closer to her climax, her moans transformed into screams that were silenced by Marjolaine’s lips on hers. When the older woman deepened the kiss, the redhead was able to taste her mistress.

Not satisfied with just that, Leliana opened her eyes and looked up to the naked woman spread underneath her as she wrapped her arms under and around her lover’s thighs, before pushing her tongue deep inside her lover and getting a sample of that sublime taste, only stopping when her lover was completely spent underneath her.

As Marjolaine came to her senses, she pulled the young bard next to her, wrapping her hands against the redhead from behind and rested her head on the back of that soft neck.

Leliana allowed herself to relax in her lover’s arms and she closed her eyes, hoping to drift to sleep. Instead of the calmness of a night’s rest, the young bard found herself in Denerim, her back pressed against Marjolaine’s. But instead of the contentment that was supposed to bring her, the redhead felt the sting of betrayal when her mistress drove a dagger through her back and then threw her to the wolves.

Feeling exhausted, battered and broken, Leliana was about to give in when she looked up to the Maker one last time and saw a hand helping her to get up. Following that hand she saw who it belonged to, her saviour, mother Dorothea. The same hand was given to her to be shaken in the moment she accepted to be the woman’s Left Hand.

 

* * *

 

 

Leliana never expected her job to be an easy one when the newly elected Divine Justinia offered her the position, especially considering the controversy her election as the ruler of the Sunburst Throne had, but the bard could have never imagined that it would lead her here. Even so, in this whole mess they at least did one thing right, they recovered quickly after the explosion.

It was not easy to put aside all the personal feelings both Hands had, but she and Cassandra worked fast enough to try and close the Breach, find, or in this case absolve of all guilt, the suspects and then do whatever they could to honour Justinia’s wishes and declare the Inquisition reborn. They still lacked an Inquisitor with Solona’s disappearance and The Champion in hiding, but they at least had the three major networks going on, led by herself, Josephine and Cullen respectively, and they also had the Herald of Andraste.

For some, Maxwell Trevelyan was just another noble’s son, but Leliana saw something in him. He seemed cut from the same stone as the Hero of Ferelden or the Champion of Kirkwall, even if he did not know it yet. And maybe she was not the only person to think that, considering Cassandra’s interest and maybe slight fascination with the Free Marcher.

Whatever it was about him, it brought them hope, just like Justinia used to. Maybe the reason why she failed the Divine was because she was too soft, or maybe it was something else entirely, but whatever the reason, she was determined not to fail this time.

With a deep breath, Leliana closed her eyes, steeled herself and made a promise to herself, to Justinia and to the Maker to see the Inquisition achieve its goals, no matter what it demanded of her. As she opened her eyes and looked at her surroundings, at the mess she caused, Leliana picked up the papers and laid them on the desk, then gathered the broken pieces of the statue and she vowed never to show weakness like that again.

She then exited the Divine’s room, closing the room's door behind her, as well as the door to her past. She could do nothing to change what happened, but she did have a say in what would come next. She was the Inquisition’s spymaster after all…

 

**Author's Note:**

> The quote Justinia mentions is a quote from St. Augustine, and it is the thing that made me write this story in the first place... because apparently that is all I need to start writing something, a quote or a in-game line...


End file.
